The End Is Not the End
by neamea99
Summary: They're in England, that's an epilogue for school, supposed to be pastiche. Atomic bombs destroy everything at the end. But as the tittle says the end is not the end. Credits to a guy from drama class for the tittle.


The boys were sitting in the dark of what has once been a warm home for some happy family and was now just a dull old place that smelled of the fire that had once destroyed it. The only color glimmering through the room was coming from two snow-white bed sheets, but even their sheen was distorted by the frail silhouettes of two school boys, dressed in the only clothes that could be found these days - military uniforms.

Everything reminded of the war outside. Of all the people killing each other off with weapons they have no control over. Ralph and Jack were constantly reminded of that long forgotten fact ever since they got on that ship. Neither seemed too upset about it, though. Actually, their reaction to the violence observed on the way to the safe place was quite indifferent. No one noticed the flash of madness that quickly passed through Ralph's eyes and wavered for a second longer on Jack's.

The king of the savages didn't ever leave Ralph's side nowadays. He had turned into a mute redheaded shadow, always moving three steps behind, never making a sound. Ralph didn't seem to mind it. He didn't seem to mind anything anymore.

All he cared about was keeping his recently cut hair combed and his face shining clean, in return getting a mirror reflection that could only be a painful reminder of a past time when survival wasn't a struggle. The only difference left between the schoolboy who first blew the conch and the one sitting on the decrepit bed right now, was that the latter had lost the habit of standing on his hands.

Jack, on the other hand, was unrecognisable. He had washed off all the paint the moment they had gotten on the ship, but the face underneath looked nothing like the chapter choristar and head boy, who could sing sharp C. He was a shell of what he had once been. Tormented and scared, he looked much older than the twelve year old he was. Even his bright red hair had turned into a rusty orange.

A sound broke the silence that had been lingering through the room for what must have been an hour. The emergency sirens were ringing with the high-pitched squeal of a dying animal.

They had been expecting that for a long time. The war was at its end and all the forces were planning their last attack. Everyone in the safe place where the soldiers had left Jack, Ralph and the survived little-uns had been talking about it. Now it was finally happening - the last blow that will destroy all that's left of civilization.

Soon after the first siren sounded chaos came. From the whole building people were running down stairs, tripping over each other. Children were crying and mothers were yelling at everyone and everything. Jack and Ralph had frozen at the door of their room. An all too familiar chant was booming in their heads, threatening to envelop them in the hysteria of a particular stormy night.

"What are you looking at kids, run! Run to the bunkers!"

A man was yelling at them, pulling them out of their trance.

Ralph started running through the crowd of terror, dodging a person, jumping over another one, crawling where no one was moving. The way he maneuvered through the mob reminded of a similar boy with torn clothes and messy hair dancing a savage dance. Except, his eyes were shining brightly - he was in control. Jack knew that. He clutched Ralph's arm, holding onto the only thing that could push the beast away.

Before they knew it, they along with a few other terrified kids got to the doors of the emergency bunker.

One over another, about twenty children got to safety. A mother in tears, probably the first grown-up there, pushed her girl in the bunker and closed the doors before her.

Silence.

A heavy thunder cut through the air with a loud crack. The ground started shaking under the kids' feet, as they fell down on the ground. Then there was nothing.

Everyone who did not manage to get to the bunker was now dead. As realization hit every face in the room, the panic began to rise again. The air got heavy and hot. Ralph couldn't breathe, the chant was getting louder, Jack's hand was cutting through his skin. He had to get out.

He was up to the doors in less than a second. Jack followed. Ralph opened the door and took a deep breath of the radiation from outside. He stepped out of the bunker and into the ruins of what had once been his home. His thoughts weren't on that right now, though.

A strange sound coming from far away had all his attention. The sound lured Ralph and without realizing it, he was moving in its direction, the other twenty one kids from their bunker made their way behind him. Crowds of other children had come out from the other shelters around. They were all going in the direction of the sound, climbing over ruins and death, layers and layers of dust covering their faces as they go.

Then they stopped.

A circle of children had formed around a girl with fair hair who standing on top of a collapsed building, blowing a silver flute found somewhere between ruins.


End file.
